Family Thanksgiving
by Qweb
Summary: A McGarrett family Thanksgiving means something different to Doris and to Steve. Happy Thanksgiving!.


_A/N: Just a quick little thing I ran up for the holiday, while I was giving thanks for Hawaii Five-0. Happy Thanksgiving._

**Family Thanksgiving**

Doris McGarrett was excited to spend her first Thanksgiving with her family in 20 years. She set the big table in Steve's home with care for three: herself, her daughter and her son. Jack was the only one missing, she thought with regret.

She felt more regret when she thought back to holidays past. Her first roast turkey was not a success. She forgot to take the bag of giblets out of the cavity and she didn't let it thaw enough, so it was raw and bloody inside and smelled decisively of plastic.

She learned form her mistakes, however. By the time her children were old enough to take notice, she was cooking perfectly browned birds with stuffing and sweet potato casserole, even the classic green bean casserole with the French-fried onions on top, plus homemade pumpkin pie. With onions and celery sautéing for the dressing and the turkey cooking slowly for half of the day, the whole house had smelled like, well, like Thanksgiving.

It was a sad fact that she had lost her touch in her years on the run. She hadn't cooked a substantial meal in that 20 years and she was afraid she'd ruin this reunion if she tried. Steve had never fixed a Thanksgiving feast, either, and Mary Ann just rolled her eyes when asked.

They got takeout.

Steve ordered a family feast from a local restaurant famed for its holiday fare. Doris thought it might be too much for their small family, but Steve just shrugged and said something about lots of leftovers.

He had left to pick up the dinner and Mary had called to say she was on the way over. Doris was a lighting candle on the table, when she heard the powerful pickup pull up in the driveway. She heard a door slam, then another.

Good, Mary Ann was here right on time.

And then another door slammed, and another, and thud, thud, thud, until Doris lost count. The CIA-trained agent was half ready to rush upstairs for the gun Steve didn't know she had, when her son pushed open the door with his foot.

He came in carrying an enormous turkey under a plastic dome that would be clear if hadn't been fogged up by delicious-smelling steam.

Carrying two side dish-filled paper bags by their handles, Danny Williams backed against the door, holding it open for Steve, who was followed by Lt. Catherine Rollins carrying a big bowl of tossed salad, Chin Ho Kelly with his arms loaded with bottles of wine and soda and Kono Kalakaua carrying a pumpkin pie in her right hand and a cherry pie in her left. Max Bergman limped behind, his cane in one hand and a basket of dinner rolls in the other. Bringing up the rear, Mary Ann pushed in Morty Sapperstein in his wheelchair with a chocolate cake perched carefully on his lap.

While everyone was getting sorted out in the living room, Doris chased Steve into the kitchen.

"I thought we were having a family Thanksgiving!" she hissed.

Steve looked at his mother. He loved her, but he knew she lied to him and, really, he just couldn't trust her. He hadn't meant to mislead her, but he couldn't feel sorry that she'd willfully misunderstood why he'd bought the family feast for 12.

"This is my family," he said, looking her in the eye.

If she felt hurt, the CIA operative didn't show it. She refused to show it. She'd be nice, even to Danny, who worried her because she knew he didn't trust her and Joe had mentioned what a good detective he is.

She forced a smile that didn't look forced at all. "Then I need to get more plates out," she said cheerfully. And she quickly stacked everything up buffet style while the others arranged the platters of food.

Everyone, even Morty, had noticed the three place settings, but no one, not even Danny, brought it up.

And everyone ate and laughed and had a good time and gave thanks that they were all together, safe and well, this holiday — even Doris McGarrett.


End file.
